


If The Moon Should Crumble

by sabershadowkat



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Future, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4494618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabershadowkat/pseuds/sabershadowkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel puts Spike back together again.<br/>Season 4/Angel implied<br/>Lyrics: Ben E. King</p>
            </blockquote>





	If The Moon Should Crumble

**Prologue**  
  


"It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine."  
  


The lyrics were sung in an off-key, deep tenor, a British accent slightly highlighting the words. The peroxide-blond who sang them laughed suddenly -- a high-pitched giggle that ended in a harsh, choked-off sob. The man stopped in front of a set of stairs, leaning heavily against the stone wall for a moment, as he took a purposeful breath and blew it out quickly. Then he danced lightly down the steps, his singing much more quiet, as if he were afraid of waking someone.  
  


"It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine."  
  


He stopped in front of a worn, weathered door and grasped at the doorknob. It turned under his hand after several failed attempts, then he stumbled inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. He glanced around at the interior of the studio apartment, his eyes flitting over knick-knacks, hand-drawn pictures and other personal belongings of the previous owner.  
  


Slowly, he walked over to a framed photograph sitting on the back corner of the night-stand and picked it up. One long, pale finger traced over the glass over the picture, the chipped-black nail polish contrasting with the bright colors within the photo. The human who smiled at him from behind the glass caused his lips to press together and his eyes to fill.  
  


"It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine."  
  


He set the frame down in its rightful place, then opened the night-stand drawer. Inside sat several tubes, magazines and other male things, as well as two stakes and a sharp dagger. He took one of the stakes out and closed the drawer again before sitting down on the edge of the bed. His eyes roved around the studio apartment again, then returned to the picture he had brought to his secret place years ago.  
  


"It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine."  
  


He closed his eyes, took a shaky breath, and pressed the pointed end of the stake to his chest. Tears ran slowly down his chiseled face from beneath his closed lids. A soft sob caused him to hic, then he grit his teeth together and pushed on the blunt end of the stake.  
  


"It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel-"  
  


The stake hit the comforter on the bed with a soft thump, then rolled off the edge. It clattered onto the hard floor, the sound echoing in the silent room.  
  
  
  


**Part One**  
  


_Three years later_  
  


Angel looked up from the papers spread on his desk, as Cordelia entered the office, waving a newspaper in her hands.  
  


"Angel, you are not going to believe this," the brunette, twenty-five year old announced. She spread the newspaper in front of him on the desk. "Carson's is going out of business!"  
  


He hid his chuckle and looked at the page she was pointing at with feigned interest. "That's terrible, Cordy," he said sympathetically.  
  


Looking at the blue jeans-clad woman beside him, with her hair up in a ponytail, dirt streaks on her cheeks, he briefly wondered where the time had gone. The not-so-affectionately-dubbed Queen C was no longer in evidence. Where once Cordelia wouldn't be caught dead in jeans, now it was the main article of clothing that she wore, along with tank tops and T-shirts that had all seen many fights.  
  


Seven years had passed since he, Cordelia and Doyle had started their "lost souls" detective agency. Kate had been with them in an unofficial capacity for just as long. The four of them had formed a tight team based on friendship, trust and loyalty that was unwavering in both the face of danger and everyday life. They had learned from each other, strengthened each other, and were there for one another when things got tough.  
  


Cordelia was probably the best friend he'd ever had since regaining his soul. She refused to let him brood, brought out his dry humor, and allowed him to realize that, although he wasn't the demon, the demon was a part of him, and he should embrace it and use it to his advantage. Angelus was once again a named to be feared for his ruthlessness and cruelty -- to other demons. Plus, he really liked the leather pants.  
  


Since money was sparse, all four of them lived in the same building as the detective agency's office. He lived in the basement, naturally, and had furnished the large, open studio-type dwelling in the dark, somber colors he favored. Doyle lived on the first floor, behind the offices, in a pig-sty that Angel refused to enter; and Cordelia and Kate split the second floor in half, both having light, airy, feminine apartments, neither of which were a good place for him to visit during the day.  
  


It seemed like he'd left Sunnydale a life-time ago, rather than seven years. Buffy had died a few years back, tearing a gaping hole in his heart that was still raw around the edges. He knew, logically, that her time in this world would be shorter than most because of her Chosen status, but emotionally, he'd thought she'd live indefinitely. At times, the tears would come when he thought about her, but as the days went on, the pain had dulled and the memories he had were full of happiness and laughter.  
  


The other members of the Slayerettes had moved on with their lives, as well. Willow had quite a reputation in the Wiccan community and owned a small shop in Los Angeles with Amy, who she finally de-ratted. She and Oz had split up during college, but still remained close friends. The werewolf currently toured with the Dingos, who had gone platinum with their first single.  
  


Xander had married Anya, and the two of them stayed on the Hellmouth with Giles. They continued to help the new Slayers that came to the small California town, much to the Watcher Council's dismay, and kept the forces of evil from wreaking too much havoc on the unsuspecting populace. Joyce had moved shortly after her daughter had died to New York.  
  


Spike had disappeared the same night Buffy died. No one knew if he had been killed or was still alive somewhere in the world. The house that he had lived in still contained all of his things, including the black DeSoto in the garage, so everyone suspected it was the former. When they had buried Buffy, they had set up a small memorial beside her headstone for him.  
  


Although he never admitted it, Angel's heart had a second tear in it over the death of his childe. The blond vampire had been slowly becoming close with him again during the years Spike had been on the "good guys" team. He had been the one to come to Los Angeles most often when help was requested and had spent the days in Angel's apartment with him.  
  


Angel missed Spike more than ever since he'd allowed the demon part of himself mesh with the rest of himself. There was only so much that could be done with mortals and he could only get so-close with other non-humans. Plus, despite their differences, they'd had a tightly-interwoven past together that could never just be ignored.  
  


"Oh hey, check this out," Cordelia said, pointing to a headline on the connecting page. "Something on Sunnydale."  
  


Angel turned his attention to the article and his brows shot up in surprise. "This is where I used to live," he commented, more to himself than to her.  
  


"I thought you lived in the mansion," she said, her eyes skimming the article, while she read over his shoulder. "And the factory."  
  


"Before that," he said. "Up until I lost my soul."  
  


"Ah, the place where you boffed Buffy," Cordelia said with understanding -- and no tact.  
  


"Yes," Angel said dryly. He shook his head and read the demolition date. "I guess I'd better see if I've left anything that I don't want to have destroyed."  
  


"If it hasn't been stolen or destroyed already," she pointed out.  
  


"True," he said. "But it won't hurt for me to check it out anyway." He stood and glanced at the clock on the wall above the door. "If I leave now, I'll have plenty of time to do whatever before sunrise."  
  


"Do you want me to come?" Cordelia asked, folding up the newspaper.  
  


"That's ok," Angel told her. He gave her a half-smile. "I want to be able to have a good brood without you hanging over my shoulder while I'm there."  
  


She rolled her eyes, picked up the paper, and headed out of the office. "Have fun. Try not to get into too much trouble on the Hellmouth and watch out for the new Slayer. I heard she's a real bitch."  
  


Angel saluted her back, then turned and went down the back stairwell from his office to the basement to pack. He'd probably stay overnight at the motel and stop in to see Giles the following night before returning to LA. In any case, it never hurt to have a change of clothes and several weapons with him. It was Sunnydale, after all. The home of the unpredictable.  
  


*****  
  


The stench was so horrid, it made Angel's eyes water. He had grown used to using all his senses at all times, which gave the illusion that he was breathing, and it was hard to stop when the wretched and rotting smell hit his nose.  
  


"Oh god," he gasped, putting his hand up over his mouth and nose. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision, as he walked down the stairs to his former apartment. No wonder they were tearing it down, he thought. No human apparatus could filter out that stench.  
  


Reaching the door, he tried the doorknob first and found it locked. Flies flitted around the small hallway, buzzing in and out of the crack under the door. Angel wasn't too sure he wanted to see what was inside. Any of his possessions would have been ruined by the horrific smell.  
  


He pulled out his keys and unlocked the door, his other hand still over his nose and mouth. Depositing them back into his pocket, he turned the doorknob, but found that he couldn't swing it open because something was blocking it from the other side. Using his shoulder, he shoved the weathered door until it slid open, whatever was behind it being pushed away.  
  


He should have kept the door closed. The stench hit him like a wall, making him stagger back. He pulled his shirt up over his face and tried not to vomit, as he peered into the room. The open window shade let the streetlight enter and allowed him to see something he never wanted to see again.  
  


Rats. Everywhere there were rats. Piles of dead ones, half-eaten ones, headless ones, live ones scurrying around between knee-high mountains of carcases. The air was thick with flies, their buzzing filling the room. Blood stained the floor that he could see, mixed with animal entrails and feces.  
  


His stomach churned, as he stepped over the bodies piled by the doorway and onto a surprisingly clear path that led from one end of the room to the other, as well as towards the bathroom. He saw more live rats running in and out of the bathroom and he suspected they were coming up through the vent in the wall. Slowly looking around, he saw that all of this things were untouched, save for rat scratches and chew holes.  
  


Everything, that was, except for his bed. Or what was left of his bed. It looked as though the mattress and box springs had been shredded, then piled into the far corner of the alcove. The cleared path led directly to the piled materials, which caused his investigative instincts to kick in. His eyes ran around the room again, taking in the different clues, and he came to the hypotheses that an animal of some sorts had gotten into his old apartment and made itself at home.  
  


Might as well roust it from its nest, he thought. The animal would be unsuspecting of a demolition crew and, if it were a Hellmouth creature of sorts, they could be endangered. If it wasn't, he would save another life -- even if it was a fuzzy one.  
  


On alert for an attack, Angel walked over towards the shredded mattress, being sure to make noise. He saw the material rustle slightly and he had the strange thought that he was looking inside a hamster cage and the rodent was buried within its bedding.  
  


When he was in front of the pile, he kicked lightly at it, trying to rouse its inhabitant. The stench was starting to make him green around the gills, so he gave up the pretense of caution and started knocking the shredded mattress off the top of the pile.  
  


"Rise and shine, animal. Time to leave," he said, keeping his voice pitched low and calm. "I highly doubt you want to be-"  
  


Angel's words cut off and he sucked in a sharp breath of rancid air through his mouth. His eyes were wide with shock when he saw the emaciated figure curled up in a ball on the pile of bedding. Tattered fragments of clothing covered his body and his feet were encased in what remained of his boots, the leather almost chewed completely off by the rats. The rodents crawled over and around him within the bedding, but he did not move. His eyes were closed in sleep, his face was gaunt and a sickly shade of grey. However, there was no mistaking who it was laying there.  
  


"Spike," Angel gasped, the shirt falling from over his mouth and nose. He dropped to his knees, uncaring of what he knelt in. His hand shook as he reached out to touch his childe's shoulder. It hovered briefly over the bare skin, afraid that he was seeing an apparition, then he gently laid his hand down.  
  


Spike's eyes shot open and he growled loudly, lashing out with long, clawed fingernails. Angel reared back, his hand quickly leaving the younger vampire's shoulder. Spike scrambled to his feet, his back to the corner. His lips were curled back, his blue eyes wild and Angel could see blood in the center of his chest where the shirt had worn away.  
  


"Spike," Angel said, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing, despite the upheaval of emotions churning inside of him. "It's me, Angel."  
  


Spike stopped growling when Angel spoke, and he cocked his head to one side, listening. His hair was shaggy and hung around his face, dark brown blending into peroxide-blond ends. His nostrils twitched as he sniffed the air, then he began growling again.  
  


Angel was unsure of what to do. If he stood, it was possible Spike would attack him, just like a threatened animal. However, he couldn't kneel there forever and stare at the man he thought had been dead for three years. He'd heard stories about vampires who had retreated into themselves, leaving them in an animalistic state. Buffy had told him how he'd been when he'd first returned from Hell, and from what he could see, Spike was acting in a similar fashion. He was so very tempted to grab Spike up in his arms and hold him tightly, but he knew that would have seriously dangerous effects.  
  


He decided to treat Spike like he would any other wild animal for the time being. Slowly, he extended his hand forward, palm down, his wrist limp, towards the vampire. Spike stopped growling and his nostrils twitched again, as he sniffed in the direction of Angel. The dark-haired vampire watched as Spike leaned forward slightly on his knuckles and put his nose right up to Angel's hand. He made sure not to look Spike directly in the eyes, so as not to make a challenge.  
  


As equally as slow, he let his hand return to his side, then backed up as far as he could before rising to his feet. Spike backed further into the corner, making his body as small as possible, a low rumbling emanating from him. Not turning away, Angel walked carefully backwards on the cleared path towards the bathroom. He wanted to see two things, how the rats were getting in and if Spike would follow him.  
  


Glancing into the bathroom, he noticed that the vent had been knocked out, as he had suspected. He waited in front of the door, silently and patiently, yet on edge. He couldn't believe that his childe was still alive and wondered what had happened to create the state he was in. It shouldn't have been Buffy's death, because, from what he remembered, they didn't really even like each other much. Unless he was wrong...  
  


Angel's thoughts were interrupted when Spike peered around the corner. He slowly moved into view, walking like a four-legged animal on his knuckles and feet. One side of his lip was still curled up, but he was no longer growling. Angel did not move and Spike cautiously walked right up to him. The wild-looking vampire sniffed at his leg, then continued upward to sniff at his crotch for several moments. Still, Angel did not move.  
  


He didn't know if it was a good sign or a bad sign when Spike turned his back on him and headed back along the cleared path. He watched as the younger vampire paused a moment, his muscles tensing up under his tightly-stretched skin, then jumped himself when Spike pounced on a live rat. His eyes widened when he saw Spike rip the rodent's head off with his blunt teeth and let it drop to the ground. Then he sucked on the headless corpse, blood staining his mouth and chin, until he tossed it and the head into one of the many piles of carcasses.  
  


Angel was still frozen when Spike attacked another rat, catching it between his clawed fingers with a squeal from the animal. He put the head in his mouth and tore it halfway off, killing the animal, then dropped it to the ground. He then bent forward and picked it up with his teeth along the back of the rodent's body, then turned and made his way back over to Angel on his knuckles and feet. Spike dropped the rat's dead body on top of Angel's shoe, then looked up expectantly.  
  


"Uh, thanks," Angel said, looking down at both Spike and the mutilated rat. Cordelia would have a field day with how he got that stain on his shoe, he thought absently, as he tried to figure out what to do next.  
  


His words, however, must have been the correct thing to say, or else Spike recognized his scent and knew he wasn't a threat, because the younger vampire rose up on his feet slightly and bumped Angel's hand with his nose. Like he would a dog or cat, he carefully moved his hand around to the side of Spike's head and lightly stroked his hair. Several unidentifiable animals jumped out of Spike's hair on contact and Angel shuddered in revulsion. It had been a _very_ long time since he'd been in a similar state of uncleanliness. In fact, he'd wager he'd _never_ been this bad.  
  


Spike dropped back down to his knuckles and headed back around the corner, out of sight. Angel followed slowly, his mind stumbling over everything and his body rebelling at the rancid stench of the apartment. When he looked around the corner, he saw that Spike was clawing at the ripped mattresses, re-piling the material in the corner. He watched as the younger vampire crawled up underneath it, his entire body disappearing into the shredded bedding, which shifted around as he settled. Then everything was still and silent, save for the buzzing of the flies, once again.  
  
  
  


**Part Two**  
  


Angel waited for Cordelia to pick up the phone, a towel around his waist, the clothing he had worn in a tightly-closed plastic bag in the corner of the motel room he had gotten for the night. He had left Spike locked in the apartment, not worried that his childe would disappear between that night and the next. He'd been there for three years already, one more day wouldn't make a difference. Plus, the demolition crews weren't starting for another three days, so he had enough time to plan his next move.  
  


Of course, he really had no clue what to do. Somehow, he needed to get Spike out of the apartment, clean him _very_ thoroughly, and get him somewhere safer. After that, however...  
  


"This had better be good," Cordelia said, when she picked up the phone.  
  


"Sorry, Cord," Angel said in lieu of greeting. He heard voices in the background and suspected it was the television.  
  


"Angel, is everything ok?" Cordelia asked immediately. "Wait, hold on." Angel heard her hand cover the phone. "Doyle, turn down the volume a minute."  
  


Angel cocked a brow. Doyle? At Cordelia's at three in the morning?  
  


"Ok, what's up?" Cordelia said.  
  


"Doyle?" Angel said.  
  


"We're watching a bad movie," Cordelia said. "Really bad. Kate's here, too. Do you want me to put you on speaker?"  
  


"Yeah," Angel told her.  
  


"Hey, Angel," Kate greeted.  
  


"Angel, greetings," Doyle said. "If you're callin' to get us ta help you move stuff, it's gonna cost."  
  


Angel decided not to beat around the bush. "I found Spike."  
  


"Spike?" Cordelia said in amazement. "Bleached hair, annoying, disappeared three years ago Spike?"  
  


"One in the same," Angel replied. "But he's not..."  
  


"Not what?" Kate asked after Angel didn't continue.  
  


Angel sighed. "He's like an animal." He ran his hand through his damp hair. "I really could use some help. I don't know what to do."  
  


"Have you called Giles?" Cordelia asked.  
  


"No," Angel replied. "I doubt he'd appreciate me calling this early in the morning."  
  


"And it doesn't matter if you wake us or not," Cordelia said dryly.  
  


"You weren't sleeping," he said.  
  


"Excuses, excuses," she said loftily.  
  


After talking together for close to an hour, they figured out a course of action. Cordelia would rent a van and enlist Willow's assistance in creating a sedative of sorts for Spike. Kate would compile soaps, shampoos and other things to get Spike clean and deloused. Doyle would run the office while the ladies were busy. Angel was to get in touch with Giles at a later hour to inform him of Spike's being alive and start the research as to how the vampire got in the state he was in, as well as what to do for him to bring him back to normal.  
  


After confirming that Cordelia would meet him at the motel later that day, he said goodnight and hung up the phone. He felt better now that he had a direction to go in. After a few moments, tears started running down his cheeks as what he discovered finally caught up to him. Spike was alive!  
  


It was a good thing that they'd found a way to anchor his soul to him, because at that moment, he would have lost it.  
  


*****  
  


"We're going to hose him down right here," Angel stated, standing with Cordelia, Kate, and Giles, who had insisted on helping, outside of his old apartment building. Parked under the streetlight, the back of the van was open and the bags of cleaning things sat at the ready. Angel had hooked up a water hose to an outdoor faucet at the hardware store across the street and the nozzle sat in a large, metal washtub.  
  


Angel glanced at the capped syringe in his hand. "Willow's sedative should make this relatively easy. The only thing you guys will have to worry about is not vomiting."  
  


"Now that's a comforting statement," Kate said.  
  


"Are you going to need assistance in bringing him out?" Giles asked.  
  


"Rupert, I wouldn't tell my worst enemy to go into that apartment," Angel told him. He gave them a wane smile. "I'll be back."  
  


He headed inside and he tried not to gag when the stench hit him at the top of the stairs. He thought that it would be less-powerful since he expected the horrid smell. He'd been wrong. Even refraining from inhaling did not prevent the rancid and rotting odor of dead flesh from affecting him.  
  


Slipping the syringe in his shirt pocket, he used his keys to unlock the door and slowly entered the rat-infested apartment. He was on guard in case of an attack, despite his being there the previous night. Animals were not predictable.  
  


"Spike," he called quietly, his voice in the similar calm and low tone as before. "Spike, it's Angel. I've come to take you home."  
  


The bedding in the alcove shifted and a familiar face appeared. It would have been comical sight if it was an act. However, the fact that Spike's actions were real made Angel's heart ache. Bits of shredded mattress clung to his matted and tangled hair, and he had a small smear of dried blood on his chin. The blue eyes observed Angel warily and his nostrils twitched as he sniffed the air.  
  


Angel waited on the cleared path for Spike to act first. The younger vampire slowly emerged from the pile of bedding, pausing with each forward 'step' in caution, and walked on his knuckles and feet up to Angel. Staying out of reach, he leaned forward on his knuckles, his neck stretching as he sniffed at Angel. Again, Angel figured his scent was recognized as being non-threatening, because Spike moved the last few feet to his side and rubbed his face against the dark-haired vampire's pant leg.  
  


Carefully, so as not to startle him, Angel removed the syringe and uncapped it. He bent forward and said a quick prayer before he stuck Spike in the arm and depressed the plunger. Spike yipped and turned, swiping at Angel's hand and knocking the syringe from it. Before he could claw Angel again, the special sedative took effect and he slumped to the floor, unconscious.  
  


Angel looked around the apartment to make sure he didn't want to take anything. His eyes landed on a framed photograph on the night-stand and he frowned, not remembering that object being there. Stepping over Spike, he went over and picked it up. Buffy's happy face smiled back at him and he felt another pang in his heart. He recognized the picture as one taken during her twenty-first birthday party.  
  


Reaching behind him, he tucked the frame into the back of his pants to take with, then moved back to Spike. Gently, he scooped the emaciated vampire up into his arms and made his way out of the apartment.  
  


He couldn't help but laugh at the reactions of his friends. All three backed up quickly when he emerged from the doorway with Spike, their hands quickly clamping over their mouths and noses. Their eyes, however, reflected with sadness and slight horror over the vampire's condition.  
  


As gently as he picked him up, Angel set Spike down on the old blanket spread out on the sidewalk. He took the picture nestled against his lower back and handed it to Cordelia, who was the first to dare to come close. She smiled sadly at the photo, then set it carefully in the back of the van, before she took out a pair of scissors and returned to Angel's side.  
  


"Cordelia, you don't have to be so close," Angel told her, accepting the scissors.  
  


"I know," Cordelia replied simply, as she wrinkled her nose before unlacing what was left of Spike's boots.  
  


Kate began filling up the washtub while Giles put on rubber gloves in order to use the harsh delousing chemicals. Angel and Cordelia removed all of Spike's threadbare clothing, then the two of them cut the vampire's hair, fingernails and toenails. Carefully, Angel picked Spike back up and deposited him in the washtub, kneeling behind it in order to support him.  
  


They worked together in silence, broken only when Angel told them he would use the chemicals to clean his childe's pubic hair. It wasn't until Angel was drying the vampire off that anyone spoke.  
  


"Angel, I think he's injured," Kate said, pointing at Spike's chest. "He's bleeding."  
  


Angel looked to where Kate pointed and saw a small bead of blood slowly forming in the center of his chest. Frowning, he wiped his finger over the blood and felt something stick him. "Can I have the tweezers?" he requested.  
  


Cordelia handed them to him and he bent close as he wiped his finger over the spot again. He saw a small sliver sticking up and grasped it with the tweezers. He immediately found that he couldn't pull it out without cutting the skin. After having a small knife handed to him, he carefully slit Spike's skin, then pulled.  
  


A splinter of wood about a half-inch in length and a centimeter wide came out of Spike's chest. Angel held it up with a horrified expression on his face, which was mimicked by the others. "Spike tried to kill himself," he said in a choked voice. Tears filled his eyes as he gazed down at his unconscious childe. "Oh Spike, what happened?"  
  


Uncaring of the blood or the others, he dropped the tweezers and pulled Spike up into his arms. He hugged his childe tightly, kissing the top of his clean head, the tears falling silently down his cheeks. Cordelia, Kate and Giles began to clean up the supplies.  
  


No one really knew what happened the night Buffy had died and Spike disappeared. Someone had found Buffy's body in front of a building off of the main thoroughfare in "downtown" Sunnydale, and had called the police. There had been an investigation, but the case had been left unsolved. The cause of death was listed as a broken neck, and other signs indicated she had fallen from a great height.  
  


The group of friends had formed the hypothesis that she had been killed and tossed off the roof of the nearby building while fighting, and that Spike had been staked at the same time. According to Willow, they had left for patrol together, bickering as normal. It wasn't until Joyce received the call from the police that they received the news of Buffy's death and, shortly thereafter, discovered Spike was missing.  
  


And now, Spike had been found, animalistic and with a hunk of wood in him, indicating a failed suicide attempt. All sorts of questions were raised in everyone's minds, but they were not to be answered that night.  
  


Cordelia laid her hand on Angel's shoulder. "We're ready," she said quietly.  
  


"Thank you," Angel said, meeting everyone's eyes. Giles nodded, then said his goodbyes and left.  
  


Angel shifted so that he could pick Spike up. He walked over to the van and climbed into the back, then sat down with his back against the padded wall. Once they got to the motel, Angel was to clean himself up, dress Spike and then he, Cordelia and Kate would head back to LA, with the Cordelia driving the van and Kate taking his car.  
  


Until then, however, Angel was going to hold Spike in his arms and thank whomever would listen that he was alive.  
  
  
  


**Part Three**  
  


Angel found a cage in his apartment. A five-by-six-by-eight cage used to hold dogs or other animals. It was against the far wall of the large studio, in front of the art work he'd put up. A cot ran along the back of it, and a padlock sat open on the door, the key sitting in the keyhole. He frowned. "What the hell is that?"  
  


"A cage," Doyle answered, dropping Angel's bag inside the door. "What does it look loike?"  
  


"I know it's a cage," Angel said, shifting the yet unconscious vampire in his arms. Willow's sedative certainly worked. "What is it doing here?"  
  


"I got ta thinkin' 'bout your choilde there," Doyle said. "If he's loike an animal, me thought you wouldn't want him tearin' up your belongins."  
  


Angel hadn't thought about that. Then again, he hadn't thought much past getting Spike out of the apartment and clean. Especially the clean part. But did he really want to cage his childe up like an animal, despite the fact that was how he acted?  
  


"Well, matey, I've gone an' cleared the calendar for the next few days," Doyle said, his hand on the doorknob. "You go 'head an' concentrate on your boy there. If there's an emergency, we'll come an' fetch ya."  
  


"Thanks, Doyle," Angel said sincerely. The half-demon nodded and shut the door behind him as he left.  
  


Walking across the room, Angel entered the open cage and laid Spike down on the cot. Exhaustion crept upon him, the two nights and one long day of not sleeping catching up to him. With a sigh, he left the cage door open and stripped off his clothing on the way to his bed. Set into an alcove, the double-bed beckoned to him. He gratefully accepted the call and climbed under the sheets.  
  


There were several light-switches on the wall above the headboard and he flipped them all down. The apartment plunged into darkness and he fell happily to sleep soon after.  
  


It seemed as though he had just closed his eyes when a loud crash and tearing sound woke him. He sat bolt upright and looked around the dark apartment warily, listening more intently than relying on his sight. He pinpointed the noise as coming from the cage and he reached up to turn on the soft-bulbed track lighting over the area, normally used to highlight the artwork on the wall.  
  


From his bed, he saw Spike's head shoot up with the light, mattress stuffing sticking out of his mouth. A few white threads from the outside of the thin cot mattress clung to his short, spiked hair. His blue eyes darted around, his head making sharp jerks, as he searched for potential dangers.  
  


The cot itself was upended within the cage, the metal frame on its side, the mattress partially shredded. Spike's hands were inside the material, posed to rip it apart more. His eyes landed on Angel and he spit the mattress stuffing out of his mouth. Like the previous times, he sniffed the air in Angel's direction, then slowly moved to the links in the cage and pressed his face against them. He sniffed again, then emitted a combination growl and whine.  
  


Angel glanced at the alarm clock on the shelf cut out of the wall beside the bed. He was surprised to find that he'd slept for six hours, rather than the few minutes he thought. Spike growl-whined again and batted at the cage with his hands.  
  


"Are you hungry, Spike?" Angel asked, getting out of bed. Spike watched him as he slid on a pair of running pants, then walked across the room to the countered-off kitchen.  
  


The apartment was set up in an open, studio-like fashion. The door to the stairwell was near the left corner of the north wall of the basement of the building. To the left of the door, he'd built a closet to hold his weapons. To the right of the door, the entire wall was lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves, filled to capacity.  
  


The west portion of the apartment was divided into a kitchen and small dining area. He'd built a thick wall around the furnace, water heater and other things that were housed in the basement to keep the building running, which took up the rest of the west wall and part of the south wall.  
  


A bathroom sat in the southeast corner of the room, which included a Jacuzzi tub he'd splurged on with money he "found" one night. The alcove where the bed was located was created by the hand-built walls of the bathroom and a wardrobe closet, also hand-built by him. A desk piled with papers and miscellaneous other things sat beside the closet. A phone was supposedly on the desk, as well.  
  


The remainder of the space was used as a living room. An overstuffed chair sat perpendicular to a ratty old couch, a low coffee table in front of them. A reading lamp sat on an end table between them. Stereo speakers were set high on the wall above the desk and in the dining area across the room, the small stereo hidden on the shelf in the alcove. He had yet to succumb to purchasing a television, preferring to read instead.  
  


Angel wondered why Spike wasn't making more of a fuss at being in his apartment. If he'd been at the old place for three years, like the dark-haired vampire suspected, the smell -- or rather, the _lack_ of smell should have made Spike uneasy. Angel glanced over his shoulder at the sound of ripping and saw that his childe was shredding the mattress once again.  
  


With a shake of his head, he removed a container of blood from the refrigerator and set it on the counter. He frowned at it. How the heck was he going to get Spike to drink from it? He'd been feeding from rats, and not very well, considering his extremely thin body. The clothing Angel had dressed him in could fit two Spikes. He was thinner than both Cordelia and Kate.  
  


Angel chuckled at his last thought. He doubted either women would want him to mention that fact. He picked up the container and stuck it in the microwave, hitting the correct buttons to warm the blood to body temperature. Leaning back against the counter while he waited, he watched Spike finish decimating the mattress.  
  


What was he going to do?, he wondered, as he took in Spike's animalistic behavior. How was he going to get Spike to return to his normal somewhat annoying self? How was he going to get Spike to talk? Or feed? Or even walk upright?  
  


The microwave beeped, causing Spike to jump and spin on his sock-clad feet, his lips curled back. Angel pulled open the door, cutting the loud sound off and removed the container. When he turned back towards the cage, he saw that Spike had retreated to the far corner and was peering over the side of the fallen cot at him.  
  


Cautiously, Angel carried the container to the cage and stopped in the still-open door. He crouched down and set it on the floor, then pulled off the lid. He raised his eyes and saw that Spike was sniffing the air again, undoubtably smelling the warmed blood. He rose and backed away, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table, which was far enough away so as not to seem threatening, and waited.  
  


Spike looked at him, down at the container, then back at him. His nostrils twitched continuously, but he stayed behind the knocked-over cot frame near the corner. Several minutes passed with neither vampire moving.  
  


Eventually, Spike whined slightly and ventured forward on his knuckles and feet. He kept darting glances around the room before returning to Angel, as he approached the uncapped container. Eyes locked on his sire, he lowered his head and sniffed at the blood. His tongue came out to taste the dark red liquid.  
  


Angel held his metaphorical breath. He watched as Spike shifted his weight back on his heels and he clasped the container with both hands. Blood splashed everywhere as the sides were squeezed. He made a strange sound -- possibly one of surprise, but Angel wasn't too sure -- then Spike lifted the container to his mouth.  
  


The dark-haired vampire chuckled silently when he heard slurping, as Spike tried to suck the blood out of the container. The blue eyes that had been watching him crossed when the younger vampire looked down inside the container. A puzzled expression appeared on Spike's face just before he tilted the container upside-down and shook it. Whatever blood had been left spilled all over the floor and splashed onto him.  
  


Spike bent his head and peered up into the upside-down container. He shook it again, as if expecting more to come out. After a moment, he dropped it and began batting it around with his hand. It slid across the floor after one particular hard hit and he scampered after it out of the cage on his knuckles and feet.  
  


Angel didn't know whether to be amused or not. The empty container ended up near his feet after a few minutes of play and Spike skid to a halt a few feet from him. He raised his eyes and looked at Angel, then back down at it.  
  


Angel kept still and Spike slowly approached him for the third time on a voluntary basis. The blood-spattered vampire sniffed him, then rubbed his cheek on Angel's pant leg like he did the previous night. Angel reached down and gently ran his hand over Spike's newly-shorn hair before his childe lowered his head and picked up the container with his teeth. He returned to the cage and buried the container in the shredded bedding.  
  


"Well, now what?" Angel said to himself. Spike looked up from what he was doing at his voice and growled lightly. "Hey, growling at me isn't going to get you anywhere, Spike." Angel stood and moved back into the kitchen to retrieve some paper towels. "And you made a mess of my floor. Plus, I have to try and feed you again, which I have no clue as to how to do. Maybe I'll just go out and buy a bunch of live snake food for you. Right, then Cordelia would be shrieking at me at how gross and disgusting I was..."  
  


He trailed off as he turned and looked towards the cage. A sad smile crossed his lips when he saw that Spike had curled up partially under the shredded mattress, his eyes closed in sleep.

 

 **Part Four**  
  


Angel rubbed his temples for a moment before returning his gaze to the cage door. He had less than five minutes to decide whether to lock Spike in or not. The briefing on the new case was scheduled for six precisely and he had to be there. His eyes moved to the half-covered sleeping vampire in the corner of the cage.  
  


Spike slept a lot -- close to twenty out of the twenty-four hours in the day. He would wake several times throughout the day and night to feed or play or wander around the apartment. Angel suspected the reason he slept so much was because he barely fed enough to keep a mosquito alive.  
  


Two weeks had passed since he'd brought Spike home. Doyle had continued to put appointments off or only take cases he, Cordelia and Kate could handle to allow Angel more time with his childe. It wasn't until that morning, when Doyle had dropped off his mail, that Angel knew he had to return to work. After being friends with the half-demon for seven years, he'd learned to read the subtle body language and tone of voice that indicated the opposite of what Doyle had told him about the new case. They were going to need his help, even though Doyle said it was nothing they couldn't handle -- hence his internal debate over the cage door.  
  


The third day Spike had been in his apartment, the younger vampire had ventured out of the cage and explored. Angel had cautiously followed him with his eyes, then physically when he went into the bathroom. He had laughed silently when his childe had climbed into the Jacuzzi and peered into the jets set in the tub. Then he'd had to startle Spike, causing him to growl at Angel, when he'd had to snatch the bar of soap away because Spike had tried to eat it.  
  


It had been Cordelia who came up with the way to feed Spike. She had come downstairs to get his signature on a delivery and had a twenty-ounce bottle of Diet Coke with her. The small top of the plastic bottle would allow Spike to put his entire mouth over it, thus reducing the amount spilled. Plus, it could be washed and reused. It worked like a dream. The only trouble Angel had was to get Spike to finish even one full bottle.  
  


Sighing, Angel rolled his head in a circle, trying to relieve the tension in his neck. He clapped his knees with his hands, then stood. "I'm going to trust you, Spike," he said to the sleeping vampire. "Try not to destroy anything while I'm gone."  
  


Before he could change his mind, Angel quickly left the apartment, locking the door behind him. He took the steps two at a time, then strode down the hallway to the office. Cordelia, Kate and Doyle were seated around the small conference table, files and papers for the new case spread in front of them, along with cups of freshly brewed coffee. Angel poured himself some into a chipped mug, then took his seat. "So, what have we got?"  
  


*****  
  


Angel's bones hurt. He loved a good fight, but sometimes those good fights turned bad, like the one he and the others had encountered that night. The only positive thing that came out of the various injuries caused was they could stamp the case 'closed.' It also wasn't a bad thing that a multitude of vampires had been staked.  
  


Unlocking the door, he entered the apartment and shut the door behind him, making sure to relock it. After twelve hours of extremely hard work, he wanted to sleep undisturbed for at least the next six in order to heal and gear up for the following night. However, when he turned around, his eyes immediately went to the cage -- and found it empty.  
  


"Spike?" Angel called, venturing further into the apartment. He shed his coat and tossed it on the back of the couch. "Spike, where are you?"  
  


Over the past two weeks, the younger vampire had learned his name and had learned that the beep of the microwave meant he was going to get fed, proving Pavlov's theories and causing Angel to brood over that fact. Normally, when Angel called Spike's name, his childe would come over to him and rub his face against the dark-haired vampire's leg. That was also slightly upsetting to Angel. The animalistic tendencies, including growling instead of speaking, playing like a cat or dog, and walking on his knuckles and feet instead of upright, were still very much prevalent. He didn't even know if Spike really understood him when he spoke or if Pavlov's training was at work again.  
  


"Spike?" Angel called again, his eyes traveling over the room. "Come on out, Spike."  
  


Movement on his bed caught his attention. "Spike?" He walked towards the alcove as the mound of covers shifted. Suddenly, Spike's dark head appeared from beneath the blankets.  
  


Angel stopped abruptly, the expression of happiness on Spike's face hitting him right in the heart. The no-longer-blond vampire's blue eyes were wide with joy and a bright smile played across his lips. It was the first time Spike had ever smiled.  
  


Spike whined slightly, emerging fully from under the covers and snapping Angel out of his stunned emotional stupor. "Hi," Angel said softly, continuing over to the bed. He stopped at the edge and Spike nuzzled his face against Angel's chest. The older vampire brought his hand up and ran it over Spike's hair, causing his childe to purr.  
  


Angel sat down on the bed, somewhat unhappy over the sound emanating from Spike. The younger vampire wormed his head and shoulders under Angel's arm and turned so he was laying partially on Angel's lap, still purring. He lifted a hand and batted lightly at Angel's chin, causing the dark-haired vampire to look down at him. The happy smile returned and Angel couldn't help but answer it with a small smile of his own.  
  


"Hey there," Angel said. He began running his fingers up and down the middle of Spike's clothed chest. Clothes that were bought by Kate the first week and actually fit the slim vampire. "You do realize you sound ridiculous, don't you?"  
  


Spike's answer was to purr louder. Chuckling softly, Angel flopped back on the bed, one arm moving to cover his eyes, the other hand still brushing back and forth over Spike's chest. "What am I going to do with you, huh?" Angel asked. "Aside from teaching you how to walk again, which we're going to start tomorrow. Maybe all the work will make you more hungry. If you don't start feeding more, you're going to waste away to nothing."  
  


The purring had tapered off and Angel raised his head to peer down at his childe. Spike had fallen asleep again, but a small, happy smile remained on his face. Angel had no trouble deciding that Spike had the right idea. He toed off his shoes, sat up to pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the floor, then maneuvered himself and Spike into a better position on the bed. Spike woke up briefly, only to curl up into a ball beside Angel before falling instantly back to sleep. Angel wasted no time in joining him in slumber.  
  


*****  
  


It took Angel several moments to realize what was happening when he woke up, and then a few more to become disgusted with himself. Spike was humping his leg, or more precisely, his upper thigh. That in and of itself wasn't such a terrible thing. What was terrible was that Angel was enjoying it. One of Spike's knees was up over him, rubbing against his crotch with each movement of Spike's hips. It felt so very good.  
  


He was a sick, sick vampire.  
  


Angel lowered his arm and put his hand on Spike's back, both wanting and not wanting the former-blond to stop. "Spike." His voice was more of a moan than a firm entreaty to halt the vampire, who had sped up his thrusts with the touch of Angel's hand to his back. Spike's knee was now rubbing rapidly over his hard, covered erection and it felt so very, very good. It had been an extremely long time since he'd been with anyone due to lack of interest and how busy he was with the agency.  
  


Spike snarled and suddenly bit Angel, his blunt teeth piercing his sire's skin, as he drove his pelvis against Angel's leg. "Fuck!" Angel gasped, the somewhat violent, vampiric action causing him to orgasm, as well. His cool semen shot into the material of his pants and onto his abdomen. He felt a second wet spot on his thigh where the fluid from Spike's orgasm leaked through his own pants and through Angel's.  
  


After a few moments of gathering his wits, Angel lifted his head to look down at Spike. The short-haired vampire had a pleased expression on his face and Angel felt a content sigh brush against his bare skin. The arm thrown across his chest tightened slightly, then relaxed, as Spike fell back to sleep.  
  


Angel raised his hands and pressed both heels of his palms against his eyes. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He couldn't believe he allowed it to happen. He couldn't believe how much he enjoyed it.  
  


He was a sick, sick, _sick_ vampire.  
  


The phone rang, or rather the papers on his desk rang. Spike was startled awake by the trilling noise and he rolled up quickly to his knees, his head cocked. Angel climbed around him out of the bed and walked over towards the desk, the front of his pants sticking to him in an uncomfortable manner. He heard a quiet thump and briefly looked over his shoulder to see Spike following him on his knuckles and feet.  
  


The phone rang for the third time as Angel began to shift through the piles of paper in search of it. Spike stopped at the corner of the desk and rose up a bit on his feet, his hands pressed atop the flat surface of the edge, in order to see better.  
  


Again, the phone rang, and one of Spike's hands shot out and slapped down on a pile of papers. Angel smirked and playfully smacked his hand lightly on top of Spike's, as the other picked up the found cellular.  
  


He almost forgot to say hello when Spike laughed. The younger vampire pulled his hand from beneath Angel's and slapped it on top of his, then looked at his sire expectantly.  
  


"Hello? Angel?"  
  


Angel blinked at the voice in his ear, pulling him out of his awe over the happy, childish sound Spike made. "Hello, Rupert," he greeted, slipping his hand out from beneath Spike's and quickly putting it on top of his childe's, continuing the game.  
  


Spike laughed again, yanked his hand out and promptly fell backwards onto his butt, as he lost his balance. He squeaked when he hit the floor, then looked up at Angel with wide, astonished eyes, as if saying "who did that?" Angel snorted.  
  


"Pardon?" Giles asked over the line.  
  


"Sorry, Rupert," Angel said, remembering he was on the phone. "I'm playing with Spike."  
  


"Ah," Giles said. "Are you having any progress?"  
  


Spike scrambled onto his feet again and hoisted himself back up, using the desk as a prop. Angel leaned back to look at the position of his childe's legs, while Spike smacked his hand down atop of Angel's again. His legs were bowed, his raised heels almost touching as he stood on the balls of his feet, his weight mostly on the palm of his one hand.  
  


"Yes and no," Angel replied to Giles' question. He put his hand on Spike's. "The soda bottles I told you about work great, but he barely drinks all the blood from them. There's twenty ounces in a British pint, so Spike would have to finish about five of them to equal that of what he'd get from draining a human...oh, sorry."  
  


"That's quite alright," Giles said. "I understand what you, er, mean."  
  


Spike pulled his hand free and slapped it down upon Angel's, laughing once again. Angel shook his head, a large smile crossing his face, and continued the game. "As you can probably hear, he's laughing," Angel said into the phone. "I left him alone last night for the first time since we found him, and nothing was destroyed while I was gone. I'm going to try to re-teach him to walk upright, starting today."  
  


"It sounds as though you have everything in hand." Giles paused and Angel could hear papers shifting over the line. "Ah, here it is. Angel, I found some information regarding..."  
  


Angel and Giles spoke for several more minutes. Spike stopped playing mid-way through the conversation and had dropped back to the floor to head for the bathroom. Angel tracked him with his eyes until he disappeared from sight, then kept one ear out for him. He concluded the conversation with well wishes for Giles, Xander and Anya, then disconnected and dropped the phone back onto the desk.  
  


"Spike, what are you doing?" Angel called out as he headed for the bathroom. He pulled a fresh pair of pants for himself and a new shirt and pants for Spike on his way. He came to a halt in the doorway and chuckled when he saw his spiked-haired childe in the tub, his butt in the air, as he looked into one of the jet holes.  
  


Angel dropped the clean clothing on the sink, walked over to the tub and turned on the faucet. Spike jumped as the water hit his sock-clad feet and legs, spinning rapidly on his knees to face the running water. Angel stuck his hand under the water to adjust the temperature and splashed Spike when he leaned closer to the stream.  
  


Spike reared back on his knees and wiped his hands over his face several times, making snorting noises. Blue eyes looked up at Angel from over pale fingers and the dark-haired vampire smiled at him. A bright smile was given in return, causing happiness to fill Angel's soul. His voice was slightly choked when he asked, "How about we take a bath, Spike?"  
  


Spike tilted his head, dropped his hands into the small pool of water at his sides and splashed slightly. They'd taken several baths over the past two weeks, so Angel knew what to expect. More water seemed to end up outside of the large tub than staying in it, but he didn't mind. All that he cared about was that Spike got clean and had a little fun while doing it.  
  


An hour and a sopping floor later, Angel led a redressed Spike back to the living room. He dumped their soiled clothing into the laundry bag and pulled a shirt on over his head, tucking it into his pants. Spike had climbed back up onto his bed by the time he was through and was sound asleep again.  
  


Angel decided to give him about an hour, then he was going to start with the walking lessons. With that goal in mind, he went over to his desk and sat down, intent on going through some of the stuff on it before the piles of paper took over completely.  
  
  
  


**Part Five**  
  


"That's it, Spike," Angel said in encouragement. "Now another."  
  


Angel stood facing Spike, his childe's hands in his, slowly walking backwards one step at a time across the hard floor. Spike stood upright in front of him, his knees bent slightly outwards. He continuously shifted his gaze from his feet to Angel's eyes with every step he took. Angel had left Spike barefooted as usual, to give him more traction, and they were slowly, but surely, progressing across the apartment.  
  


The session was their twenty-eighth in two weeks. Angel worked with him twice a day. The first few days had been spent trying to get his childe to stay on his feet. After that was accomplished and Spike actually began walking, Angel increased the length of distance across the apartment with each day.  
  


Spike raised his foot like a child would, higher than necessary, then put it down heavily in front of him. His hands tightened around his sire's, using Angel as a support as he shifted his weight forward. "Very good," Angel said. "Now, the other foot."  
  


They were almost to the door when something amazing happened. Spike dragged his foot forward, his shoulders slumped and his head downcast. "Only a few more steps," Angel prompted, taking another step backwards. He tugged slightly on Spike's hands, but the younger vampire refused to budge. "Spike-"  
  


"No."  
  


Angel's eyes shot to Spike at the short word that came from his mouth. He sounded like a sullen child, but that didn't matter. He _said_ something. "Spike, did you just tell me no?"  
  


Spike raised his head and frowned at him. He pulled his hands from Angel's and dropped down to the floor. He met his sire's eyes again. "No more. Tired."  
  


Angel's jaw dropped, as Spike turned and headed back across the apartment on his knuckles and feet. The younger vampire went into the cage and burrowed into the shredded mattress, which had been added to with an old, worn blanket Angel had given to him, also ripped up. He closed his mouth, but it immediately fell open again, as he tried to fathom what just occurred.  
  


*****  
  


"He talked to me!" Angel exclaimed upon entering the office.  
  


Cordelia looked up from the paperwork she was filing at his sudden appearance. "Who did?"  
  


"Spike!" Angel said, grabbing her up in a large hug.  
  


"Oof," she gasped. "Angel, you're crushing me."  
  


"Sorry." Angel grinned at her in a way that indicated he was anything but. "He talked!"  
  


"Uh, should I come back?" Kate asked, exiting from another office.  
  


Angel dropped Cordelia and rushed at Kate, scooping her up in an equally enthusiastic hug. Kate squeaked. "Angel!"  
  


"Wha's goin' on?" Doyle asked around a mouthful of food, coming out of his own office. Angel waggled his eyebrows over the top of Kate's head at him. The half-demon backed up as Angel set Kate on her feet and stalked towards him. "Angel, I-ikes!" Doyle exclaimed, as he, too, was grabbed up in a powerful hug. Angel took it one step further and spun his friend around in a circle, then planted a big kiss on Doyle's forehead.  
  


"What the fouck was that for?" Doyle said, rubbing at his forehead when Angel set him back down.  
  


"Spike talked to me!"  
  


"Nice grammar," Kate said, sharing an amused grin with Cordelia over Doyle's predicament.  
  


Angel's smile did not falter at the teasing. "I don't care if I say he speaked to me, he just did it!"  
  


"What did the Golden Childe say?" Cordelia asked, perching herself on the edge of her desk.  
  


"'No,'" Angel replied. The three friends looked at each other, then laughed. "Hey. He also said 'no more, tired.'"  
  


"What were you doing to him?" Kate inquired.  
  


"You weren't getten' on with the-" Doyle finished his sentence with a rude hand-gesture.  
  


"Doyle," Angel said with exasperation. "I was giving him walking lessons."  
  


"Right, if you say so," Doyle said. Angel leaned out and smacked the half-demon upside the head. "Hey! I just got me a haircut."  
  


"So, does this mean you can ask him what happened?" Cordelia said.  
  


Angel's expression turned thoughtful. "I guess it does. I don't know if I want to ask right away, though. This is the first time he's spoke since we brought him home and probably the first time in three years. I wouldn't want to make him shut up again."  
  


"A bit of advoice for ya then," Doyle said. "Don't say anytin'. Any words that spout from your mouth tend ta scare the livin' dayloights out of people."  
  


"Doyle, eat me," Angel said.  
  


Doyle made a face and responded in a mimic of Cordelia's voice. "Eew much?"  
  


*****  
  


Angel stared at Spike. Spike stared back at Angel. The younger vampire lifted his hand from the floor and scratched behind his ear, then put it back down. He shifted on his feet, his weight moving from one set of knuckles to the other.  
  


"Can you at least tell me if you're understanding a single word I'm saying?" Angel asked with a sigh from his normal perch at the edge of the coffee table. He had been trying to convince his childe to talk to him again for the past four days. So far, he'd had no luck. Spike seemed to be acting exactly as he did before he'd spoken -- childlike and somewhat animalistic.  
  


He was almost convinced that what he'd heard had been his imagination. Maybe if he forced Spike to work longer with their walking lessons...  
  


"Yeah."  
  


Angel blinked in shock, not really prepared for the fact that Spike would actually answer him. The word was short and stiff, and the younger vampire dropped his gaze to the floor, one of his hands brushing a piece of fuzz back and forth. Talking, he thought, his mind grasping at things to ask. Keep Spike talking. "Uh, are you hungry?"  
  


"No," Spike replied.  
  


That was two! Angel tried to hide the smile that crossed his lips, but he couldn't. Spike had answered him! As Cordelia would say, this was so of the good. He felt like jumping up and dancing the jig, even though he had no clue how to dance the jig, he'd still dance it. He had to control himself before he did something ridiculous or would scare Spike.  
  


"You sure?" he asked. "You've barely fed today or any other day..."  
  


"No," Spike said more firmly, raising his head to look at Angel. Then he leaned forward and rubbed his cheek on his sire's knee.  
  


Angel ran his hand over his childe's slowly growing hair, then slid his fingers down Spike's cheek and under his chin, tilting it up. His serious dark eyes met Spike's blue ones. "Since I know you understand me, I want you to know how glad I am that you're alive," he said softly. He leaned forward a pressed a kiss to Spike's forehead. "So very glad."  
  


"Yeah?" Spike said, his voice hopeful and soft.  
  


"Yeah," Angel agreed.  
  


 

 **Part Six**  
  


Spike slowly began to change as the days passed. He started to walk on his own, moving between the furnishings on shaky legs when Angel was around to praise him. His demeanor was that of a toddler, cheerful and innocent playfulness one moment, stubborn and pouting the next, especially when Angel tried to get him to feed more. Angel had also given Spike the choice to share his bed. Some days he did, others he didn't, choosing instead to burrow in his nest of ripped bedding.  
  


Of course, Angel wasn't sure which he disliked more, the days Spike didn't share his bed or the days he did; for he always seemed to wake up exceedingly horny with the younger vampire curled around him. Or rubbing up against his leg. He was a pervert. A 252-year-old, perverted vampire. So what if those words were synonymous? It still didn't change the fact that he was a sick vampire.  
  


Which was why he was sitting on a bench in a park getting a blow job from someone with bleached hair, blue eyes and lean body. Too bad his mouth was warm rather than cool. However, that didn't stop him from leaning his head back, closing his eyes and pretending it was a certain childe of his that he was becoming more attracted to with each passing day.  
  


Sick old man, he thought derisively. Then he groaned silently and thrust his hips up into the warm, willing mouth, allowing an orgasm to overtake him. A few moments later, he fixed himself, tipped the young man, and watched under hooded lids as he walked away. He sat there a little while longer, listening to the sounds of the night city around him before rising to his feet and headed back home.  
  


When he arrived at the building, he saw that the lights were on in the agency and wondered if there was anything going on. He hadn't gotten a page, so he knew there wasn't an emergency. Heading inside, he picked up a flyer that had been shoved under the main door, skimmed it, wadded it up and tossed it in the trash as he entered the office.  
  


"Angel, about time you showed up," Kate said, shoving a file at him as she passed by him. "Cordelia's got someone on hold on all lines, Doyle is up to his Irish eyeballs in garbage and I _have_ to get to the house in the next twenty minutes."  
  


"Why didn't you page me?" Angel asked, flipping through the file she'd given him, as he moved towards his office.  
  


"And interrupt your blow job? No thanks," Kate replied, snatching up the receiver on another phone in the main part of the office and hitting a button. "Thanks for holding. Now, what can we do for you?"  
  


Angel stared at her, dumbfounded. How did she...?  
  


"Back already, Angel?" Cordelia said, coming out of the back room with a box in her hands. "You're quite the quickie tonight."  
  


His jaw dropped. "Wh-What?"  
  


"Cord! I need ya!" Doyle shouted from somewhere in the back.  
  


Cordelia set her box down and headed the way she came. "Coming!"  
  


"Angel, phone," Kate snapped at him, pointing to Cordelia's desk.  
  


"Right," Angel said, shaking his head. When would he ever learn nothing was a secret?  
  


Five hours and one sore ear later, Angel headed down to his apartment. He wondered if they had put out their own flyer, what with all the phone calls the office had received that night. Business had never been so good and in the next few weeks they would all be extremely busy. Visions of new spytech equipment danced in his head, as he unlocked his door.  
  


He could hear music playing and smirked. Once he'd shown Spike how to use the stereo, the younger vampire had it on most of the time. "Spike, I'm home," Angel said, shutting the door behind him. His hand froze on the lock when he heard crying just under the music. Turning quickly, his eyes searched for the source and found Spike curled up in the corner of his bed, weeping.  
  


_When the night has come_  
_And the land is dark_  
_And the moon_  
_Is the only light you see_  
  


"What's wrong?" he asked, rapidly crossing the room. He let his coat drop to the floor before he sat down on the bed. Reaching over, he laid his hand on Spike's shoulder. "Spike, what is it?"  
  


Spike moved abruptly, scrambling into his lap. He wrapped his legs around Angel's waist and his arms around his sire's neck. He pressed his face into Angel's shoulder, his cries turning into sobs. Angel held him tightly, whispering comforting words, wondering what was wrong. Spike had never cried in all the time he'd been there.  
  


_No I won't be afraid_  
_Oh, I won't be afraid_  
_Just as long as you stand_  
_Stand by me_  
  


Then he spotted the framed picture on the bed where Spike had been laying. It was the one he'd taken from his old apartment, the photo of Buffy on her twenty-first birthday. He'd forgotten he'd even taken it. Someone must have brought it down while he was out.  
  


"Make," gasp, "it," gasp, "stop." Spike words came out with great difficulty, his entire body shaking with his sobs. "Don't want...," gasp, "to," gasp, "'member."  
  


"Remember what, Spike?" Angel asked softly.  
  


_If the sky that we look upon_  
_Should tumble and fall_  
_Or the mountain should_  
_Crumble to the sea_  
  


"I-," gasp, "I-," gasp, "I," gasp, "k-k-k," gasp, "killed," gasp, "'er."  
  


_I won't cry, I won't cry_  
_No, I won't shed a tear_  
_Just as long as you stand_  
_Stand by me_  
  


Angel felt like someone stabbed him in the gut. His arms tightened around Spike's shaking body. "What do you mean, you killed her?"  
  


"I-," gasp, "I-I-I," gasp, "loved 'er." Spike's sobs, if possible, got even harder. "Stopit," gasp, "stopit," gasp, "stopit," gasp, "stopit."  
  


"Oh God, Spike," Angel murmured, rocking his childe slightly. He rested his cheek on Spike's hair, as the younger vampire clung to him and cried. "It's okay. Shh. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. No matter what, I'm not leaving."  
  


_So darlin' darlin'_  
_Stand by me_  
_Oh, stand by me_  
_Oh stand now_  
_Stand by me_  
_Stand by me_  
  


Spike spoke haltingly against Angel's chest awhile later, the older vampire having shifted them both so Angel was leaning against the headboard, Spike curled on his lap. One large hand gently stroked Spike's arm in comfort, the other lightly hugging him around the waist.  
  


"Roof," Spike said, his face etched in pain. "Walking on roof. Told her..." He hicced. "Told her loved her..."  
  


When he didn't continue, Angel said softly, "Then what?"  
  


"She-she-she-she-." The tears started flowing again, affecting his speech. "Fall, trip, wires-s-s," hic, "I-I went catch 'er, 'elp 'er," hic, "an-an-and-" Spike inhaled sharply and finished with a stifled sob. "I s-snapped 'er neck. Accid-d-d-dent."  
  


"Sweet Jesus," Angel murmured, squeezing his eyes shut in pain.  
  


"Loved 'er, killed 'er," Spike cried brokenly. "Me-me-me-me-me-me-me-me-me..."  
  


Angel felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest, both for the senseless way Buffy died and for Spike. He knew what guilt felt like, but, except for Jenny Calendar, he never killed someone he even considered a friend. Yet, Spike had killed the person he loved because of a random accident and a mistaken helping hand. The suicide attempt was far from surprising now that he had this information.  
  


The crying taped off and he waited for several moments to ensure that Spike was truly asleep. Then he carefully shifted his sleeping childe onto the bed and brushed a kiss across his cheek. "I'm so sorry, Spike. I wish I could make it better," he whispered. "I'd take away the pain if I could."  
  


*****  
  


Willow was his fairy godmother.  
  


Angel had started calling everyone, despite the early hour, as soon as he felt he could speak without crying. He'd started with Cordelia, who promised to tell Doyle and Kate, then he contacted Giles and broke the news to him. Both of them decided it would be better if Joyce never knew what really happened that night. After Giles said he'd inform Xander and Anya about the events surrounding Buffy's death, Angel called Willow.  
  


And Willow said she could take that single memory away from Spike. Selective permanent amnesia. The night Buffy died would be erased from Spike's mind forever. Angel would have kissed her if she was standing in the room with him, rather than talking with him over the phone.  
  


Angel would bring Spike to her store, where she also lived in the apartment above it, to perform the spell. He was tempted to ask her to erase some of his memories, as well, but he did not. Those memories were part of his penance for the wrongs his hands had committed, whereas Buffy's death had been an innocent accident. The younger vampire would never heal with the memory of what happened that night.  
  


Spike never woke, his emotional exhaustion causing him to stay asleep despite Angel's carrying him to the car, the ride over to Willow's and carrying him again into her apartment. The redheaded witch hugged Angel tightly after he set Spike down where she told him to, sharing with him both thankfulness that they knew what happened to Buffy, and grief over her senseless death.  
  


The spell itself was pretty simple. Willow had the date, had knowledge of the events of that day, and had all the magickal ingredients she would need. She warned Angel that anything else that had occurred on that day would be erased from Spike's memory, as well. He told her to proceed, knowing that Spike would never remember telling Buffy that he loved her, either; but the type of grief that would come from that fact would dissipate with time. The powerful Wicca completed the spell within an hour and Spike remained asleep throughout it.  
  


*****  
  


"Hey, how are you doing?" Angel asked quietly, sitting beside Spike on the bed. The younger vampire had just woken up after what seemed like forever to the nerve-wracked Angel. His fingers were mentally crossed for the spell to have worked.  
  


Spike looked up at Angel for a moment, then scooted over so he could lay his head in his sire's lap. Angel gently ran his fingers repeatedly over Spike's hair. He gave Angel a small smile, which turned into a frown after a moment. "I cried," he said, as if puzzled by that fact.  
  


"Yes, you did," Angel confirmed.  
  


"Why?"  
  


The confusion evident in Spike's voice sent a wave of hope through Angel. He answered in a way that would cinch whether the spell worked or not. "Buffy."  
  


"Oh," Spike said. His brow furrowed. "What 'bout 'er?"  
  


"You were just missing her, that's all," Angel replied. "Sometimes I really miss her, too, and I cry."  
  


"Where did she go?" Spike asked, raising his hands to play with the buttons on Angel's shirt.  
  


"She died a long time ago," Angel answered softly.  
  


Spike's next question was one that epitomized his current childlike mentality and proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Willow's spell was successful. "Can she come over an' play wit' me when she comes 'ome?"  
  


"I'm sorry, Spike, but she's not coming back," Angel told him. "But I'd be happy to play with you."  
  


"Can we go for walk?" Spike asked with enthusiasm, sitting up and bouncing on the bed.  
  


Angel chuckled, tenderness, relief and love for Willow and his childe flowing through his heart. "I think we can do that. Go get your harness while I get your socks and shoes."  
  


"'K," Spike said happily, scrambling off the bed and rushing on his knuckles and feet towards the cage.  
  


Ten minutes later, Angel sat on a bench in a different park, one hand holding the retractable leash that was attached to the ring on the back of the climbers/rescuers harness Spike wore, watching as the younger vampire chased the pigeons. Angel had learned the first time he'd taken his childe out of the apartment how easy it was for the vampire with a toddler-like mind to wander away and cause his sire to become frantic with worry. Hence, the harness.  
  


Spike stopped romping suddenly and Angel wondered what was up. An encouraging smile crossed his lips when his childe stood upright and walked on two unsteady legs over to him, cupping something in his hands, a look of intense concentration on his features. "What have you got there?" Angel asked.  
  


Spike sat down beside him and leaned close, holding his hands in front of Angel. "It's a Buffyfly," he whispered, slowly uncupping his hands.  
  


The most beautiful monarch butterfly Angel had ever seen sat on Spike's palm, its wings opening and closing in an unhurried rhythm. The tips of its wings were outlined in black, spreading downwards towards its body in a web-like pattern. Burnished gold, yellow, and a hint of blue filled in the areas between the black.  
  


Angel had the uncanny feeling that Spike wasn't wrong in calling the monarch a "Buffyfly." He felt as though she was whispering in his mind, asking him to love Spike as she did, telling him that she loved him, too, and that she missed them.  
  


After a few minutes, the monarch flew off, and the two vampires watched until it disappeared in the darkness. Spike rested his cheek against Angel's shoulder and sighed. "Bye-bye, Buffyfly."  
  


"Goodbye, Buffy," Angel added quietly. "I'll take care of him for you."  
  
  
  


**Part Seven**  
  


Angel was knocked back out into the hallway, a skinny, flop-haired vampire pinning him to the ground, when he attempted to enter his apartment after work. Bright blue eyes twinkled playfully, belying the curled back lips and the growl emanating from the vampire. Angel held back his laughter and tried to put a scared expression on his face.  
  


"Oh no, the mean dog got me," he said in a fake-frightened voice. "Whatever shall I do?"  
  


Spike's snarl twitched into a smile for a moment, before he frowned and growled louder. Angel slowly moved hands. "I know what I shall do," he said dramatically. "I shall utilize my secret defense weapon against mean dogs!"  
  


Angel struck, his fingers suddenly dancing over Spike's ribs. Spike yelped in surprised ticklishness, then scrambled off of him and bounded on his knuckles and feet back into the apartment. Angel quickly rose and chased after him, continuing the game, which ended when Spike rolled onto his back for an animal-like belly-rub.  
  


"You are silly, you know that?" Angel asked Spike, sitting beside the prone vampire on the floor.  
  


"Yeah," Spike replied, grinning goofily at him. "I's a silly little git."  
  


"Yes, you are," he agreed. He looked over toward the refrigerator, but had no ambition to move. "Did you feed?"  
  


"Uh-huh," Spike answered. He smacked his lips. "Yummy."  
  


"Are you ever going to grow up?" Angel asked, an amused smirk on his lips.  
  


"Nope," Spike told him, with a firm shake of his head. Then he sang, "'I don't want to grow up, I's a Toys 'R Us kid.'"  
  


"I never should have bought that television," Angel grumbled good-naturedly. Spike grinned at him in response.  
  


Almost a year had passed since Angel found Spike in his old apartment, living as an animal and feeding from rats. The former peroxide-blond vampire had mentally changed over the period of time he'd been with Angel, growing from animalistic to toddler-like to alternating between early school-age childishness and late-teenaged male. The youthful innocence, however, always stayed and was prevalent in the way he spoke and his unjaded view of the world.  
  


Somehow, the demon inside of him had become repressed to the point of non-existence. Spike had no bloodlust, no desire to hunt humans or kill for the fun of it. His control over his human mask seemed to be an unconscious and unwavering action. The few times he had gotten extremely angry had not changed his features, nor did they change the one time Angel came home early from work and found him at the crux of his climax as he masturbated in bed. Angel had left the apartment shortly after he'd witnessed that in a desperate search to find his paid relief.  
  


Spike could walk without problems on two feet, but used all 'four' at times, usually when he was tired or was playing. He no longer needed the harness, knowing not to wander away from his sire when they went out together without telling Angel where he was going. At times, he acted as a stubborn adolescent, refusing to do something Angel wished and sulking when he didn't get his way.  
  


It was the times that he curled up beside his sire on the couch, watching the television the older vampire had been conned into buying, that Angel enjoyed the most. For it was during those quiet hours that Angel slowly fell in love with the unique, vampire man-child who had returned to his life unexpectedly.  
  


"There's a show on the tavee on the British Isles in a little bit," Spike said, climbing to his feet and walking over to the couch. "Do you wanna watch wit' me?"  
  


"Love to," Angel replied, standing as well. He headed into the kitchen to heat himself some blood and heard the television click on behind him. When he turned around, he expected to see Spike sitting on the couch, flipping channels. Instead, the younger vampire was over by the desk, lightly touching the framed photograph of Buffy on the corner with the smattering of other framed photos.  
  


The microwave beeped and he took the heated container out and set it on the counter, then walked over to Spike. His childe had an expression on his face that Angel couldn't define, as his finger traced over Buffy's smiling features.  
  


"I miss 'er," Spike said quietly. "Sometimes I 'ave this dream that we're playing and she yells at me, but I's can tell she don't mean it." He inhaled purposely and sighed. "I 'member I never told 'er I loved 'er."  
  


"She knew," Angel told him.  
  


"Do you think she loved me back?" he asked, a hint of curiosity underlined with something else in his voice.  
  


"I'm sure of it," Angel replied, remembering the monarch butterfly. "You're hard not to love."  
  


"Do you?" Spike said. He turned his head and looked up at his sire, his blue eyes questioning. "Do you love me like she loved me?"  
  


"Yes," Angel answered without hesitation.  
  


"I don't want you to go away wit' me never tellin' you I love you, like 'er." Spike bit his lower lip, waiting for a response.  
  


Angel studied Spike, wondering if the younger vampire meant what he had interpreted. "Are you telling me you love me like you loved Buffy?" he asked. Spike barely nodded, his eyes dropping in shyness. "Are you sure?"  
  


"Yeah," Spike replied, rubbing at an invisible spot on the desk with his thumb. "Do you want to...," he hesitated, then continued, "to do that stuff I saw on the tavee wit' me?"  
  


"What stuff?" Angel asked, not wanting to make a mistake that could hurt their current relationship.  
  


Spike turned and walked over to the coffee table. He picked up the remote and changed the channels, then pointed at the television. "This stuff."  
  


Angel walked over and stopped beside him. There was definitely no way Spike could mistake what the two men on the late-night, adult station were doing. He swallowed heavily, a certain portion of his anatomy enthusiastically saying yes to Spike's question. The rest of him, however, was going to be more cautious in answering. "I would, but only if you wanted to," he replied.  
  


"I want you to make love wit' me, Angel," Spike said, an adult's certainty in his voice. His eyes left the television and met Angel's dark gaze. "Please?"  
  


Angel took the remote from him, shut off the television, and set it on the coffee table. Then he took Spike's hand and led him over to the bed. He faced the younger vampire and saw that Spike's eyes had darkened to a deep blue. Angel raised his other hand and cupped the side of Spike's cheek. "I love you," he said quietly, then bent and pressed his lips to Spike's.  
  


He felt Spike start, jumping slightly with the contact, then he started to kiss Angel back. His mouth was soft and cool, and he tasted of blood and the chocolate-chip cookies Kate had given them. When Spike's tongue tentatively brushed against his, Angel inhaled sharply in reaction, his body tightening with desire.  
  


Spike removed his hand from Angel's and began to unbutton his sire's shirt. Angel slid his now free hand up under Spike's shirt and ran it around his waist, lightly caressing the bare skin of his lower back. Spike shivered, and the kiss between the two men became more passionate, as Spike touched Angel's bared chest.  
  


A few seconds or hours later, Angel broke away from Spike's mouth. "Undress," he instructed, his voice husky and desire-laden. He shed his own shirt, letting it fall to the ground. The rest of his clothes followed, joining with Spike's on the hard floor, leaving two naked and very aroused males standing face-to-face.  
  


His eyes traveled down Spike's whipcord thin body, outlining the muscles that were there and drinking in the hard shaft jutting out from the nest of dark curls. The younger vampire's eyes burned into his skin at the same time with the same heavy-lidded examination. Angel let him look as long as he wanted, not moving until he reached out for the older vampire.  
  


They ended up entangled on the bed, the velvety-soft skin around their steel erections rubbing together erotically. Hands gently stroked and caressed and rubbed. Lips tasted, tongues licked, blunt teeth nipped at cool skin that became heated with arousal and want. Shyness and uncertainty gave way to boldness and determination.  
  


Both of them reached orgasm without penetration; Spike from years of no intimate contact, Angel from the younger man's clumsy and virgin-like, innocent touches. They continued to kiss and hold each other afterwards, despite the sticky residue of semen on their skin. Spike lay atop of Angel, their flaccid penises pressed together, Angel's arms wrapped tightly around the other vampire.  
  


It was Spike who broke the warm, sensual, post-intimate silence. He nuzzled Angel's neck, lightly kissing the cooling skin, and sighed in contentment. "I love you, Angel," he said softly.  
  


"I love you, too, Spike," Angel replied tenderly.  
  


"Swear?"  
  


Angel smiled at the childish tone. "I swear."  
  


"Even if the moon should crumble?"  
  


"Even then," Angel answered.  
  


"Good," Spike said. He shifted slightly, then raised his head, his eyes wide. "We're missin' the tavee show!"  
  


Angel chuckled. "Well, then we'd better move over to the couch, shouldn't we?"  
  


"Yeah," Spike replied, squirming out of Angel's arms and getting out of the bed. Angel watched as he crossed the room on his knuckles and bare feet, his naked rear wiggling. He climbed onto the couch and grabbed the remote to turn on the television, then looked over at Angel. "Let's go, it's on!"  
  


Angel shook his head an stood, pulling the comforter off the bed before joining Spike on the couch. The younger man snuggled up against him and he wrapped the cover around them both. Then Angel dropped a kiss on the top of the Spike's head and happily sat watching television every night with the part-man, part-child for the remainder of his life.  
  


**End**


End file.
